Our Little Game
by Heartless Effervescence
Summary: "I heard you're a player. So, let's play a game. Let's sweet talk, let's play fight, let's talk twenty four-seven. Let's tell each other good morning and good night every day. Let's take walks together. Let's give each other nicknames. Let's go on dates. Let's talk on the phone all night long. Let's hold each other. Let's kiss and hug. And whoever falls in love first? Loses." [AU]
1. Prologue

**A/N: I have decided to write in a new, different style.**

 **So here you have it. I present to you, "Our Little Game."**

 **Disclaimer: Yes indeed, I do not own Gakuen Alice**

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Once upon a time, there lived a sister and a brother. They lived in a large cottage at the end of the woods. On their twenty-second birthday, their cruel parents never awoke from their sleep, leaving the two siblings to commit incest. A week later, disgusted townsfolk stoned them to death. Therefore, with no other choice, the incestuous sister and brother lived happily ever after in a land filled with cotton candy clouds and chocolate rain.

Hold it right there.

First of all, that was just a mere thought. _I don't have a dirty mind._

Second, I would never commit incest with my brother. What am I, an animal? Even animals aren't _that_ mad, are they?

Third, I absolutely adore my parents.

Well, that last one may or may not be true…

Fourthly, whether or not that is a real word, if God _did_ exist, he would kick the incestuous kids out of an alleged _Heaven_. Christ, I don't even know whether or not to be religious! Think about it! _Incest_ , of all things! _Incest_.

I'm not that stupid to support incest.

And stop. Before you even begin, stop judging me just because I mentioned the Savior here. Savior… bleh. Please – I've heard enough criticism about my "lack of faith." But honestly, I have my reasons. I have my reasons.

Come to think of it, the idea of incest popped into my mind solely because of a certain infatuated couple. Despite their contrasting features, they'd obviously spent a lot of time together, matching their outfit and hairstyle accordingly.

The _blondie_ —I coughed mentally, not too bothered at the racist thoughts my mind was projecting; I was keeping them to myself after all— had purple and blue highlights as the colors in her hair weaved into a French plait reaching down her chest. Atop her head sat a yellow sunhat with strawberry lollipops circling the rim. Personally, the yellow was too bright for her already-bright hair. She looked like Goldilocks without the curls. Her right nostril was accessorized by an oh-so-fancy loopy-earring. Wait, nose ring.

Maybe Mom would let me get a nose ring… Nope, never.

The ridiculous blondie was holding hands with a glum-looking brunette. Her hair, instead of being accentuated with purple and blue, was streaked with _white_ and _red_. Admittedly, it looked attractive. And no, I am not going to totter towards them on this sickeningly fast subway _just_ to congratulate her above-average looks. The grouchy-looking Miss American Apparel traded the nose ring off for a pair of loopy earrings that looked blue under the dim lighting of the train. And instead of a sunflower hat, she wore a black baseball cap that was decorated with skulls.

Scary.

What intrigued me, however, was the twin part. They wore a matching set of gladiator sandals matched with short black bottoms; both shared the identical button-up shirt. I cringed mentally as the two giggled, _giggled_ , (even Miss A.P.!) before closing the already-little space between them.

Ahem, who wears shorts and sunhats in the middle of winter? It's bloody cold! Barbie-girl over there, apparently. And Miss American Apparel.

Twitching quietly in my seat opposite of them, I quickly adjusted my own cap. The two lovebirds had begun _making out_. Making out! On a subway. Underground. In public.

It struck me as odd, how people were able to express their love so easily. That was only supposed to happen in the romantic comedies I was obsessed with (and guiltily, still am).

Yep, completely different from my nonexistent love life.

Don't pity me. Pity the girls who have their hands wrapped around each other's necks. I swear that they'll kill each other… intentional or not. I swear.

Don't bring God into this. Thank you.

Unable to tear my gaze away from the lovesick couple, I, like most of the subway-goers, watched in fascination as the Miss Apparel and Barbie continued to devour one another in a heated session.

And no, unlike some of those pesky, preachy Christians out there, I don't hold anything against gays. It's not like I can force them to fall in love with a guy; they're just themselves. So the third finger is for you if you decide to judge Barbie and Apparel.

Why the heck am I bringing religion into this? Eh, I have nothing better to do with my life…

…Lies.

Oh come on. It's twenty-fifteen. Loosen up.

Spoiler: I might even be bisexual.

Ugh, whatever.

Finally managing to divert my gaze from the hot mess, I was more than relieved to hear the static-y voice on the intercom and the squeaking of breaks; both of which announced the end of our little journey.

Realizing that I was the first one who bolted to my feet, I ignored the people who stared at me dumbly. If they didn't have anything better to look at, I wasn't one to stop them.

Okay fine. I felt a snivel of a fraction awkward. Tell me that you wouldn't if you were the first one who practically _bounced_ to their feet in excitement when everyone probably knew that all you wanted to do was get off this dark, crowded subway.

Thought so.

As low murmurs rustled throughout the subway car, I grew irritated. "Blasted pancakes," I muttered.

Well hey-ho, that wasn't supposed to come out of my mouth.

Straightening myself, I cleared my throat. Nodding briefly at the gawking passengers, I stepped forward.

Before dashing uncontrollably through the open doors, I grinned at the couple that had paused their kissing.

Lowering my eyes, I leaned forward and snatched a lollipop from Blondie Barbie's hat. Diverting my gaze towards the glum-looking-again brunette, I pointed at her shirtfront. Still smiling, I articulated crisply, "Button up."

Not quite sure what had come over me, I unwrapped the red candy, dropped the plastic wrap in a nearby waste bin, and popped it into my mouth. Ducking into the subway station, I made a quick getaway before the morbid passengers had a chance to suffocate me.

Don't make me explain myself. I acted on my own.

No, I'm not retarded.

Hiding my eyes under my cap, I clumsily climbed the stone stairs two at time and whilst meeting the daylight, I sloppily soaked myself in a puddle.

What a surprise.

Frowning, I tugged at the paper stick in my mouth. Sucking on the lollipop, I looked ahead.

The thing about New York is that the season changes can be a bloody blummin of an annoying thing. As of now, the early-December precipitation was unwilling to be friends with me; large, fat raindrops drenched my cap and seeped into my hair. The strands clung uncomfortable to my neck as I groaned to myself.

Obviously, the universe hates me.

It's not like I like the universe any more anyway.

The only thing doing me justice is the strawberry lollipop that is currently dyeing my tongue a colorful shade of red. I think so anyway. But even my tiny sense of comfort was whisked away from me when my teeth made the mistake of chewing and swallowing the last bit of strawberry.

The remaining stick lodged itself in my mouth as I continued trudging towards my destination in the rain.

I am definitely moving next year.

Passing by a Starbucks filled with huddling humans, I wrinkled my nose and wished desperately that the unceasing rain would let up.

Wait, backtrack.

An old man, withered with age and bent with time, stood broken by the sidewalk. His body was wrapped in dirty rags; the soles and laces of shoes were battered and torn; his hair was a disheveled mess that looked like it hadn't been washed in ages. His teeth were yellow with the seasons as he quietly tried to ask for contributions. Nobody paid him any heed, and nobody paid him any mind – everyone merely brushed passed him and continued on his or her way. A few bolder teenagers dropped a penny into his beseeching plastic cup, but that was all. The man too, however, despite the looks of him, was a human.

Honestly, those brutes could have contributed more than a bloody penny! Their hair was covered in slick hair gel and they wore designer clothes. Heck, even their bloody feet were clad in more than the average man's monthly salary!

Chewing my lower lip, I could only shake my head. Yes, I will gladly take the spotlight of a pampered diva by openly displaying my distaste, thank you very much.

The man noticed me standing there, under a barren tree in the rain. With a pitying smile missing half its teeth, he held his cup out. "Please… Any… any'ing 'ill help…"

His meager voice nearly pronounced "hell" instead of "help."

With a concealed cough, I glanced at him and turned around. Without so much as a word, I stepped into the cramped Starbucks before pushing past the people clad in thick jackets and gloves.

As I shook my wet hair, one of many thoughts ran through my head.

I should have worn a raincoat.

Not bothering to be polite, I made my way through the line of people. But hey, it's not my problem that people can be ignorant. _I'm not ignorant._ Looking up at the barista, I whipped out a dripping credit card. Holding up a hand at the protesting people behind me, I lowered my voice. "Grande Americano, warmed turkey and egg sandwich, a blueberry muffin. Heated."

The man in a pink apron merely blinked in surprise before hastily nodding. He turned around, fulfilling my orders.

Wordlessly swiping the card, I nodded at the man's quiet word of thanks.

Pfft, I should have been the one saying thanks. Whatever.

Behind me, I could hear murmurs of "Who does she think she is?" and "The hell?" and "What a diva."

Grabbing the items off the counter, I purposefully grabbed a small tube of chocolate-covered coffee beans and I tossed it towards the barista. "Add it into my account."

Swiveling back into the crowd, I looked back and said, "You will never get far without helping others."

Greeted by more hisses of anger, I just shook my head.

Idiots are inevitable.

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	2. Chocolate Coffee Beans and an Americano

**I admit: the reviews made me continue writing... Thank you so much! Now you've all got the second chapter!**

 **For the guest reviews, I have no choice but to reply here. Sorry readers; you'll just have to scroll down! (To everyone else, I would like to thank you once more!)**

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 **(Guest) Feu:** This chapter is for you then! Thanks to your review, I've got the guts to continue writing. Let me know if this meets your standards!

 **Other Guest (Did you review twice?) that reviewed:** Thank you for the virtual cookies and the reviews! I'm glad that you don't mind Mikan's OOCness too much. (:

 **Guest:** Yep, this is from Mikan's perspective. I'm glad you noticed!

 **Most recent Guest:** You people are starting to confuse me... What if you're all just one person reviewing at once... eh. Nah, impossible... But yeah, (I'll just call you Boots for now). Boots, I don't hold too much of a grudge towards "rich" people... but they _can_ drive others up the wall. You'll find out who her brother is (maybe) and what she's doing with her food soon! MissMango MAY or may not be right... _P.S. Well, Mikan wasn't TOO disgusted by the girls making-out. Anyway. :) P.P.S. About her attitude and the little blueberry muffin grammar incident, it was entirely intentional on the narrator's part. :)_

 **Ilyasm :)**

 **So without further ado, Chapter 2! Cheers! This chapter was either very short, or a thousand words longer so... short chapter, here it is! Sorry...?**

 **Disclaimer: Disclaimed. Yessiree.**

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Feeling everyone's gaze peeled towards me, I pierced my lips together smugly.

 _Stop judging me, suckers._

Stepping back out into the cold, I shivered in my doused jacket and walked to the man, weighing the food from hand to hand.

Holding the contents in my arms out to him, I grunted, "Eat."

 _Applaud, applaud. You've just thoughtlessly commanded to do something._

If only the voice would shut up and stop being so bloody annoying already.

I watched as the man clasped his hands together and his eyes nearly resembled that of a carefree child's again. It was amazing how a smile could change someone so.

He took a loud slurp from the paper cup. I briefly wondered if the Starbucks was too bitter for the old man. Perhaps he was humoring me, but he showed no sign of disgust.

Every so often, he would stop chewing and ask if I would care for a bite. Feasibly, it was out of honest revulsion or the wet shivers traveling up and down my skin, but I declined with a small smile.

The thought of him asking however, made me smile.

 _You're so gullible, Mikan._

Swallowing another swig of the golden liquid, the homeless man never tore his gaze away from me.

He studied me, and I studied him.

It was mutual studying.

But honestly? It became unnerving after a while…

A scar curved over right eye in a wave of loose skin, threatening to curl into his eye socket. _Ouch._ A few other scratches here and there accentuated his long hours of manual labor in the past.

 _Oi girl, you're not Sherlock. So stop_ playing _Sherlock._

I looked down, hiding under my cap. Droplets of clear water kissed the floor, desperate to say goodbye to my head. That's how inapproachable I am.

The man held half a muffin in his hand up to me, his eyes inquiring.

 _Those child-like eyes._

With a gentle push, he thrust it in front of me.

Protesting, I shook my head. Piercing my quivering lips together, I pointed at him. "Eat."

He made no move to argue. Complying, he slowly swallowed bits of the muffin until nothing but golden crumbs were left in his palm.

His next words gave me a start. "You're wet."

Part of wanted to snap 'No shit, Sherlock,' but the other part of me was empathetic.

I shrugged. "It was worth it."

The man stared at me soulfully. And despite the situation with him being the lonely man, I shivered. His next words were impossibly clear, "For me, it was worth it... because I had something to gain. But what of you?"

That was the first complete sentence I heard him utter. Food does wonder to people.

I swallowed. _What… what are you up to?_ "It was worth it."

The hair clinging to my nape was but a distant worry as I wriggled in the clothes that hugged uncomfortably to my skin.

The homeless man stared down at the cylinder containing the chocolate coffee beans. It must have been me, but perhaps his eyes _did_ soften, and the hard crinkles on his face lessened for a sliver of a moment; during that short, short moment, he looked roughly ten years younger.

He cleared his throat. "You. If you don-don't share, I reh-fuse to ac-sep this."

It was my turn to soften. Sighing I shook my head. "Maximum two."

The man's cheeks were thin from malnutrition; his bones protruding, doing a sad job of supporting his wrinkles. Yet here he was, openly offering what I had given him.

He dropped three round balls into my open palm. Looking up at him, I laughed quietly and placed one in my mouth.

The old man gestured to the discarded items at his feet.

As I peered at the chocolates I shouldn't have accepted in the first place, the man's next words jolted me to the bone.

It was entirely unexpected.

"Thank you."

I blinked, unable to register what he said. My ears must have been playing tricks on me. "P-Pardon?"

"Thank you," he repeated. Eyes never straying from my face, he said, taking short breaths between each word, "Thank you, for this." He motioned towards me. "And for yer company."

"I… it was worth it," I repeated dumbly, my lips parched. Not knowing what to do, I swallowed another chocolate bean.

 _Perfect. Be awkward, you idiot._

The homeless man gathered up his discarded paper bags and cup. Giving me a purposeful, albeit weak, salute, he turned to limp away. Stopping abruptly, he stood among the busy throng of people, ignoring their blatantly blistering glares. "Young lady."

I blinked, still surprised. "Y-Yessir."

He eyes softened for a fleeting moment. "Wear a jacket and dress properly next time. Thank you, and good day."

I just stood there, completely thwacked and stupefied.

" _Wear a jacket."_

" _Dress properly."_

 _And don't bring Harry Potter into this._ Even I can have a sexier accent than Rat-cliff.

What happened to this man? Where did he learn such etiquette? What happened that led him to the streets? Why would he care so much?

I swallowed my last chocolate and stood there, dumbfounded, as I watched him disappear quickly down the streets.

Bloody hell, that would all remain a mystery to me.

 _Mental brakes, mental brakes, mental brakes, girl._

 _You're too stupid. Don't take every little action for granted._

 _Not everyone you meet is an angel dressed up in rags._

BLOODY HELL!

 _Language. Religion. Angels!_

"Shut up."

A small tap made itself known to my shoulder.

I stiffened. _Great move, great move. Stiffen up for the world to see._

A mewling voice sent daggers into my ears. "Ahem, uh, hello?"

I straightened, my back, still stiff. Lowering my eyes, I turned around. "Yes?"

"I was well—Oh my god! Oh my-god, oh god, oh go-!"

I coughed wryly. Droning dryly despite the rain, I enunciated, "Please don't bring religion into this."

"No! I mean, it was just… oh my god, is it you?"

 _Play dumb._

 _Bloody Mary._ "Pardon? I am not God. I don't think God is a woman. She'd be a goddess in that case."

So maybe I spoke too much. It was the pesky girl's fault for annoying me.

I am positive that her next words would have caused me to snap in two.

"Well…"

I opened my mouth to prompt her. "Well what?"

No sooner had the irritated words come out of my mouth, I held up my hand. "That's enough."

"Wait but, wait I think… don't I know you?"

I twitched in annoyance. "I'm afraid not."

"Daughter, daughter. Where are you?"

I looked about wildly, the skin on my neck prickling. _Gah, what now?_

A familiar sight of matted hair hobbled into view.

I nearly laughed.

"Daughter," he repeated solemnly.

The girl behind me shrieked. _Guess you aren't so into me now, are you?_

Shivering, I scurried towards the old man. "Dad," I played along.

"Ah, daughter. You are late for your, erm, appoit-met."

Oddly enough, I found the man's broken wording endearing.

Waving towards the dumfounded girl cheekily, I quipped, "Sorry I resemble someone you may know. I hope you meet however you're looking for soon. Have fun at the movies!"

I honestly didn't know whether or not this girl was going to a movie theater. Beats me.

 _So…._ So maybe the homeless man came to my rescue.

My rescue.

A sharp intake of breath stabbed my lungs. I stopped walking abruptly.

The man leaned against his stick and stopped hobbling.

"Wh-Who are you?" I choked, standing in an alleyway.

The homeless man shook his head and without another word, turned around disappeared down into the fog and made his way towards the outskirts of New York City.

Well, blimy.

* * *

 **And I'm ending it there. :) Thank you so much for reading!**

 **Kindly drop a review? Cookies for all! Wait no... Cookies for me.**

 **Alex**


	3. Damned Marble Floors and Nakedness

**Okay so... I really don't have anything to say but express my deep gratitude for all the reviews everyone sent my way. Thank you so much, you all!**

 **Sammie and QH-pyon:** You two are so sweet. :) I'm glad to see you here again, Sammie. Directing this to both of you, I'm glad that you are "enjoying" the different sexual orientations bleh bleh. Not sure how I'm supposed to word that... My father holds a "grudge" for gay people because... I don't know: He thinks that kids nowadays say that they're gay "just to be cool." But I disagree with him. Wholeheartedly.

 **Guest:** So I see you're interested in the homeless man, huh? Well, within these next few chapters, I guess I'll somehow throw him back into the plot. How does that sound to you? :)

 **Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own GA.**

 **I present to you, Chapter 3! Enjoy. :)**

 **Nazareth, Panda, Words, and IvyLex - This chapter is especially for you guys. :) Everyone else, sit back and enjoy the read!**

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Riddled with uncertain quakes, I numbly pottered down the cobblestones in the vague direction of my destination.

So maybe the homeless man helped me. Big deal. What if he was a stalker? Oh God.

 _Shut up with the religion already._

"Hey it's not my fault," I muttered.

 _You're you. Of course it's your fault._

"There's no such thing as God, and that's final," I snapped.

 _You are making absolutely no sense at all._

With a huff, I stormed through the apartment lobby. Drenched from head to toe in cold rainwater, I was evidently in an irritable mood.

But _some_ idiot just didn't notice.

"Miss?"

"I'm fine. Just ring me up when they need me."

What I really wanted to say was, _Go away and let me be._

"They?"

I glowered, somehow walking myself in a circle on the tiled floor. "You know what I mean," I snapped.

The dark-skinned man merely nodded before turning away.

Scowling and shivering a great deal, I stabbed at the elevator button repeatedly.

Six minutes later, I collapsed into my suite.

A quiet meowing greeted me.

Still shivering, I bent down. "Hey ugly," I said fondly. "How're you doing?"

The cat with a torn ear merely mewled happily at my presence and rubbed himself against my drenched pant leg.

Despite the cat's actions, it did nothing to help my shivers disappear.

"Alright fine. Blackie, shoo. I'll get your food later."

He sat on his haunches and stared up at me. _You stink like poo. You meanie poo._

"Thanks for that observation, mister. Now go away."

His large green eyes blinked. _Meanie._ Tail high, he turned and padded away.

The back of my mind imagined butterfly wings sprouting from his back.

"Bloody shap," I muttered.

The room looked bleak and wobbly. The abstract paintings hanging from the walls looked like oversized monsters, sucking on paint-coated walls. The couch and coffee table were a meddled blur as my eyes zoomed in and out on them oddly. Honestly, I just felt like a big pile of poo.

 _You sure have a fondness for poo today._

Shut up.

 _Whatever._

Tugging at the dank black shirt clinging to my stomach, I senselessly peel the drenched material over my head, somersaulting my hat to the floor in the process. The feeling of the fabric leaving my skin was absolute heaven. _Here we go with religion again._

Shivering, my hands found their way towards my opposite arms, rubbing the unwanted goosebumps. Struggling out of my wet bra, I spit in distaste at the hair that found its way into my mouth.

The wet jeans slide agonizingly slowly to the ground as I growled. The pants were busy dragging dead, damp skin along with then.

Discarding my wet, soggy clothes in a disgusting puddle in the ground, I totter up the hard stairs, avoiding each marble step as much as possible.

Too bad I couldn't fly.

Who in their right mind designed this apartment to have marble floors anyway? The stupid steps are all swirly and white and most unpleasant to the unclad feet.

Stupid marbles. Stupid floors.

Finally reaching the upper story, I dashed towards the nearest bathroom and slammed the door. Groggily registering the slippery floor, I squirm into the bath without another thought.

In the shower, the warm water bred another problem.

It was absolutely impossible to get warm. The blistering heat did nothing to soothe the prickled skin that coated my body.

 _Eyes pulled open, I stayed bent under the showerhead, waiting for my body to respond to_ the unnatural heat pulsing from above me. Warm hair clinging to the bare of my back, I held out my fingers. Watching the water droplets slide from my fingertips, I cloudily keep my head down. Sheet after sheet of water enveloped me.

My fingers resembled that of Ursula's, or Cruella de Ville's… it's so wrinkly and crinkly, and the water extends my stubby fingernails…

 _I wanna be an octopus…_

Maybe a Dalmatian fur coat wouldn't cling to a person's body so much in the rain…

 _You're making absolutely no sense._

Closing my eyes, I lean against the perspiring wall. Head drooping, I run my index finger in stiff circles around my bellybutton. The water is starting to feel good.

"Oi, idiot! How long are you planning to stay in there?"

Bursting into a coughing fit, I blink, albeit stupidly, resuming my newly discovered fingernails through dizzy eyes.

A loud pounding vibrates through my head. "Get outta there, you hear me?"

 _That hurts. Shut up, brain._

On a second thought, the waves of a commanding voice are not merely in my head.

Sliding to the ground, I swirl my fingers at the water gathering at the bottom of the tub. My fingernails, it seems… have disappeared.

A small voice is currently claiming that I've gone crazy.

 _Lies._

"Jesus! Mikan, get out of the damn shower."

The slightest mention of Jesus and religion briefly snapped me from my reverie. The muffled shouting coming from behind the white door was now accompanied by scratching. Blackie was there too, clawing at my door.

Distracted, I attempted to make a snow angel in the water. "What'd'you thinkof a Dalmatian furcoat… I want a doll-mate-shin furry coat with ducks on them… and pink Starbucks cups."

"What? Mikan. I swear, get out of the shower or else I'm coming in."

"Duckyducky momomo." Even to my own ears, those words sounded rather odd.

Dipping my ears underwater, another session of shivers got the best of me.

"I swear, Jesus Christ, just get out! What did you do before you came home? You're drunk, aren't you?"

And there's Jesus again. His blurry, accusing voice was grating against my nerves. Flapping my arms while lying down in the cooling water, I earned myself a bruise from floundering against the tub too hard. Yowling, I spat, "I ate Starbucks."

"And just how is that possible?"

I didn't answer.

My bellybutton looks like a little well filled with water…

Without any warning, the white door bursts open.

Ducking my head underwater, I dumbly blow bubbles before looking up. Through the foggy glass, I murkily make out a colorful silhouette. "Go away," I mumbled as I turned my head, grimacing at the painful tingles. Without attempting to, I gurgled water, inhaling the darned substance through my nose

With a gasp and another coughing fit, I jerk upright. The water droplets splay the walls with a splutter.

Without a single damn warning, the glass door slides open.

Lying back down, I turn over in the water. "It's cold. Go uh-way."

"And you're naked."

"No one assed you to come in he-ear."

"You're delirious."

"I don't want baloney."

"We're not talking about books idiot, get up."

I splash in the tub. "No."

"What the hell is wrong with you? You must be drunk."

"Cold."

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged out of my water haven and brutally wrapped in a towel. Staggering under the pressure of two pressured hands, I feel the floor's lulling pull.

I hear a sigh. "You're sick."

"Hunger-y."

"You're not eating, idiot, dry yourself first. What on earth were you doing prior to coming back?"

Finding myself on a carpeted room somewhere in a room, I peel my eyes open.

The lighting was shaded; it wasn't too bright, but I could still make out the fuzzy outlines of a bed and several other household objects. Everything looked like a ball of fur.

 _Dalmatian coat…_

Curling into a wet ball, I flinch at the contact of my wet hair. "I don't wanna."

"Mikan, just stop. In case you haven't noticed, you're naked."

Maybe it was those three words that got me moving. _State the obvious would you._ Inching slowly, I crawled towards the fuzzy bed and huddled in my towel, desperate the assuage the goose pimples dotting my arms.

"Are you drunk?" The suspicious voice cuts like a knife through the cold air and hits me in the head.

"I wist."

"You wish?"

I nod feebly and drop the towel. Shuffling naked under the covers, my eyes scream in ecstacy as they close.

"'Hoy, Mikan. Get up. Your hair is wet."

Turning around, a sharp stabbing in the nape stops me. "I don't wanna. You're not my mom."

"I'm close enough to your mom. Now get the fuck up."

Pulling myself up painfully onto my elbows, I cough stupidly. "Make it quick."

"I'm doing you a favor here, idiot. I was supposed to have a date with my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" I echo hollowly, watching my brother walk towards me with a metallic hair drier in his hand.

"Stupid." He flicked my forehead and told me stand up. As I dizzily complied, he cringed at my apparent lack of clothes.

That didn't bother me anyway.

It's not like I have a model-esque body or shapely thighs.

"Put some clothes on," he said sharply.

"Ugh!"

Can't a girl get any peace, like falling asleep, for instance?

Blinking, I covered myself with a towel and sat with my legs crossed on the bed.

Lulled to sleep by the blasting sound of the blow drier, I soon found myself trapped in a dark fog of haze.

"Idiot."

"WHAT!"

He stared at me oddly. "Your boobs are showing."

I growled. "I don't care. Is my hair to your liking now?"

"Why yes it is," he answered sarcastically.

I blurrily realized that his orange-y hair had been tied into dozens of tiny bunches, sprouting him a ridiculous hairstyle. I wrinkled my nose. "I hate you."

"I know you do." With a short peck on my head, he shooed me, naked and all, back into my covers before tucking me in.

…..

The stupid darned device rung once.

Then it rung a second time.

Three minutes later, _Never Say Never_ refused to blast through my ears.

The fourth time, the red Galaxy cellphone was hurled across the room.

And the bloody fifth time, it turned off by itself.

Ten minutes later, the cursed cellphone began ringing, refusing to stop ringing until I threw my covers back, tripped against a stupid towel on the floor, and after acquiring another bruise on my leg, stopped it with my own hands.

By now, the incessant ringing in my ear refused to cease.

Crawling agonizingly back into my warm bed, only for the phone to ring. Again.

"Bloody idiots."

Then that ruined sleep for me.

Noticing a sheet of orange paper on the bedside table, it took me forever to decipher what on earth my supposed brother left me. My hand found its way to a lamp, switching it on. In blue ink, I slowly made out the inscrutably neat handwriting.

Baby sis,  
I'm at a photo shoot. Your clothes are in the drier.  
I'm sorry for setting so many alarms on your phone… figured it would take seven alarms. See you tonight.  
~Your lovely brother

"Tonight?"

What tonight? There's nothing besides microwaved Kraft dinners tonight.

I stood up again.

Big mistake. "Ow, ow, ow. Christ. Good lord!"

Now I'm stuck in a room. Clothe-less, freezing, and completely dumfounded. _And_ mindlessly rambling about something related to religion.

What's more, I felt like complete garbage in my _own_ room.

 _What the heck happened to you?_

"I'm drunk."

 _You're not convincing anyone here._

So maybe that was a lie.

The phone rang, causing my sore bottom to jump up. Fumbling with the lock screen, I put the receiver to my ear. "Hullo?"

No answer.

"Hel-lo?"

Still no answer. By now, I am ready to do just about anything to get this bothersome device out of my sight. "Who's calling? Just answer me already!"

Growling, I kick my bedpost in abhorrence.

Moments later find me naked in my bed, dumbly cradling my pained big toe.

The phone rings again.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

" _Oh so now you decide to answer me."_

That phrase sent my patience up the wall. Grinding my teeth, my vision dotted with spots, I snarl, "I answered you earlier!"

" _No you didn't."_ I swear that idiot is trying to get on my nerves.

Fed up, I fall against my pillows. Grimacing against the thin ripples of pain shooting up my spine, I gave up. "What is the occasion tonight?"

" _The first night I'm allowing you to go to a bar."_

"I'm already twenty-two. I don't need no permission goin' to a bar."

His sharp voice surprises me as I bury myself under the pillows. He ignored my grammar and instead acknowledged my words instead. That bastard. _"So that means you have gone to a bar before?"_

"Ugh, stop being so overprotective."

" _Whatever. I texted you the address. See you half an hour. Don't forget your phone, kiddo."_

"HALF AN—," and the call died.

Chewing on the insides of my mouth, I still couldn't see clearly in the dim lighting of my bedroom.

I want to sleep. I want to bloody sleep, not play hooker in a bar.

Fine. If my brother wanted a bitchy sister, it will be shoved up his arse easily.

Already more than a little annoyed, I stumbled towards my closet. Yanking the doors open, I stare groggily at the hangers and jumbled piles of clothes.

Grabbing whatever was in front of my face, I found myself in a mint-green cable knit sweatshirt. Ignoring the ruffled white fringes, I pulled on any random pair of pants with my eyes half-closed.

The ending result gave me a drastic appearance. A little cockroach corpse was hanging from my hair. Besides the sweatshirt, instead of pants, I was wearing a pair of men's Squidward swim trunks and an orange strapless bra _over_ my sweatshirt.

Yep, this is because I'm drunk.

I'm not drunk.

I'm drunk.

I'm not drunk.

 _Not drunk._

But still, maybe I could eat the cockroach.

* * *

 **I'm scared of cockroaches. Especially they're icky bodies...**

 **Kindly drop a review? :)**


	4. The Diamondback and the Aunt Roberta

**A/N: It seems that I've got everyone in a confuzzled mess! Can't say I'm not disappointed in you all... It will take a few more chapter to fully explain and iron out the kinks here and there anyway. :)**

 **Alyssa:** Maybe Natsume, maybe Ruka. Maybe neither. Maybe both. ;) I've tossed in a few treats here, see if you can spot them, alrighty?

 **Feu:** Yay, you again! Thanks for coming back to read the previous chapter. About Natsume... you may be right. MAYBE. As for the old man, you'll see about him later on.

 **Other Guest:** Eh, Mikan isn't emotionall "mad," but she's Alice in Wonderland "mad," if you get what I mean.

 **Sammie:** Wait and see, kiddo.

 **QH-pyon:** Definitely the rain... Go catch up on sleep, alright? I don't want to be the one to blame...

 **Ummm:** Confusing, huh? Eh... flame all you want and I help explain.

 **FrozenCrimsonCroissant:** I swear, you sound like Sherlock Holmes... maybe Shirley Holmes? Just kidding. Yep, you got the orders right; you'll see what comes next. As for the religion part, I can't say that I'll minimalize it entirely, because I need some backup for what will happen in the future. :) I hope you understand. (Still contemplating about Mikan's status in society... Bleh. Any ideas?) You're not drunk, girl; I'm drunk!

 **Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

 **Special thanks to Panda, Dwmalove, and Croissant!  
Big hugs for Story and NFD.  
** ** _This took too long..._**

* * *

I didn't even know that I had swim trunks and orange bras…

Digging in my closet again, the results were equally unappealing. I came up with a torn scarf and the decaying corpse of yet another cockroach.

So _this_ is my life.

After several disputes with my disagreeable wardrobe, I was finally out the door.

This time, I didn't forget a raincoat or an umbrella.

Halfway to the lobby, however, I found myself patting my pockets. Shrugging, I thought nothing of it.

Now, walking down the rocky streets of New York, I ultimately realized that I had left my phone at home.

 _Well isn't that convenient._

"Just wing it?" I muttered to myself.

 _You've never been to the bloody bar before._

…..

This place is so crowded.

Truthfully, I don't understand why the idiotic man I call "brother" would even spend time here. He may have come from the same womb as me, but he took infinite pride in drinking himself to death.

I think my hangover is gone.

 _You weren't even drunk._

"Shut up." I've had enough of the nagging voice at the back of my head.

I. Don't. Drink.

Well, I do, just the least bit.

Fine, I do drink. I just have "self control" so I don't run the risk of drinking myself silly like these drunkards.

"Hey, Mikan! You're here!"

I spin around and find myself looking up at my brother. There are two girls latched to his arms.

"Blondie and Apparel," I blurt.

"What?"

I quickly shake my head. "Never mind."

My orange-headed brother shrugs, an eyebrow quirked, showing evident wonder. "Sure. Anyway, drinks are on me, little sis."

Pretending to pick at the nonexistent lint on my sweater, I pointed at the two girls at his side. "Who're they?"

 _Brother_ just shrugged and winked at me. "Just a few beautiful girls I picked up." He looked to and from each girl.

I made a face and stuck my hands to my hips. "Names?"

It didn't bother me that everyone in this tiny speakeasy was staring me; this just wasn't a speakeasy.

Mr Orangy over there slurred, "Monica 'n…"

The goth-looking brunette beside my brother stepped forward and thrust out her hand. In a monotone voice, she said, "Nice to meet your acquaintance."

I stared at the hand. Chuckling awkwardly, I accepted it and nodded. "I would say the same, but I'm not one to be accused of lying."

Stepping back, I sent my gawking brother a swift glance before pushing into the crowd.

So much for thinking that they're lesbian.

They didn't seem to recognize me anyway.

 _The more incognito, the better._

Turning away, I find no one I want to talk to. From the corner of my eye, I see familiar blobs of dark blue and pink hair.

 _Let's talk to them._

But no, I don't really know them, so screw that thought.

I hate bars. But I _do_ kind of like drinks.

 _Don't drink yourself silly._

"Was that ad lib?"

I swivel around. "Pardon?"

Pardon seemed to be my favorite phrase nowadays.

The fair-haired blonde repeated, "Was that ad lib?

I blinked, confused.

"The sassy remark."

 _Oh that._

"Oh no. I rehearsed before arriving here."

Raising a skeptic eyebrow, the blonde coughed politely. "I am assuming that that was sarcasm."

"Bingo. Get your lifetime's savings rewards here," I answered warily.

"Oh yeah?" he joked. "How about a lifetime of red wine?"

I tilted my head to the side. Pretending to think, I shrugged. "That's not too bad either."

Under the colorful lights of the flashy bar, I could make out the blonde's unusually azure eyes.

Pointing at him, I said out of the blue, "Nice eyes."

He looked startled before grinning. "Why thank you. You don't look half bad yourself."

I will say so right now, that he has a gorgeous smile.

Angel spoke again. "Fancy a drink?"

Whoo-boy. "I wouldn't say no to such a gentlemanly offer."

He chuckled.

The crowd seemed to make way for him.

"Don't tell me this is another clichéd love story."

He turned away from the counter. "Chill. What makes you think I'm interested in you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Flirt."

He grinned and handed me a glass. "A Shirley Temple for someone as _sweet_ as you."

Oh wow, a nonalcoholic beverage. He must think I'm merely a kid.

Raising an eyebrow, I pointed at him. "How old do you think I am?"

"Perhaps under drinking age."

I glared at him.

"What?"

"You think I'm a seventeen-year-old slut."

He shrugged. But anyone who wasn't blind would be able to make out the twinkle in his eyes. "Indeed."

Shaking my head, I took a sip of the Shirley Temple. "Thanks anyway."

"My pleasure." He bowed gentlemanly and straightened up. He was wearing a tuxedo, I realized.

Blinking, I set my glass on the table. "What's your name?"

"Well that escalated quickly."

"Okay. Hello, Mister Escalator. Are you currently out of service?"

 _That grin again._ He downed his drink and shrugged, "The least to say is that I'm alive and well. I'd say that I'm in service."

I made a face. "Why does this always happen in bars?"

"We can go to a café."

I shook my head. Finishing my drink, I nodded in thanks at him. Turning away, I stepped a few feet away from him.

That was when my brain finally started to turn gears.

Honestly, it seems foolproof to me anyway. If I get blamed, all I have to do is turn the tables and blame my damned brother for inviting me to the bar.

"Hey pretty pretty girl!"

I made a face. _He's not acknowledging you, idiot._

Got it.

"Hey, I I am talk, talking to you."

I looked around. Sure enough, several feet away, is a tall man pushing through the crowd. His features looked soft, but the wildness in his brown eyes declared otherwise.

 _You're hammered, Mister blondie._

Well, looks like my fun would have to wait. I waved to the man. "Hey there."

"Hee-eey there beautiful."

I coughed. This may not be the best idea of the year… "Why thank you. How are you?"

He paid no heed to cordiality before holding out a drink to me.

I want to go home and eat Kraft dinners.

Not knowing what to do, I reached out and accepted the glass. The scent of lemon lime pokes its way into my nostrils while Jack Daniel's and Triple sec make themselves known soon after. A thin slice of lemon garnishes the iced drink on top.

"Lynch. Lynchburg Lemonade," he said for me, shaking his head and twirling a finger through his blonde hair. "Let's start small, shall we?"

I shook my head and laughed. Downing the unusual sweet and tangy beverage, I nod at him in thanks.

 _I'm definitely a goner._

Several mild drinks later, I excuse myself from the loud music and trot to the restroom.

Pushing through the doors, I meet face-to-face with a man.

A man.

Baffled, I slowly back out of the way and stare at the door. Nope, no mistake. It's definitely the bathroom.

I head back in, accidentally bumping into a bushy tree in the process.

The man is still there. "Unisex," he chuckled.

I smile weakly and nod.

 _What. The?_

Another thing: There are no bathroom stalls or dividers.

A strangled noise escapes my throat as my heart gets caught in that very same place. "Seemingly so."

The thought that continuously flashed through my mind was that I shouldn't have downed so many drinks. But hey, I wasn't even drunk!

But I really, really… gotta pee.

The man stepped forward into the light, heading towards the door. "See you around."

 _Red._

"Wait!"

Okay, I shouldn't have said that…

He stood at the doorway, one hand already on the knob. Turning around, he enquired, "Hm?"

 _Now what, genius?_

But seriously, I don't want anyone to burst in while I'm on the toilet seat.

Somehow the guy managed to grow another eye. Straightening my back, I said, "Uh… May you stand outside so n-no one will come in?"

"What, little girl?" he asked incredulously.

"I – er, uh, you see…" I fiddled with the hem of my sweater. "You see, uh I…"

Once again, I was interrupted by the swinging of the door.

The incomer paid us no mind as he unzipped his pants and did his business. Once he finished, he zipped his pants back up, ran his hands through his _green_ hair, and was back out the door.

He didn't even wash his hands!

Oh GROSS.

"Are you going to stand there all evening?"

I stared. All I could hear was the roaring of blood flooding my ears. The Niagara Falls was nothing compared to my embarrassment.

"Puh, uh. Nevermind." Spluttering, I reigned myself to a stop.

With a small smile, I gave a wave of my hand.

Skeptical, he asked, "Have you had too many drinks?"

"Bloody hell, no! Jeez!"

He looked taken aback by my outburst. "I was just asking, no need to explode."

I liked him instantly.

Yep, the alcohol was definitely getting to me…

Grinning coyly, I tap my lip with a finger. "Drinking contest?"

Somehow, he grinned. _He fucking grinned._

Maybe a flicker of doubt passed through his eyes, but I swear he said, "Oh you're on, woman."

"On a second thought, I preferred being called a little girl."

He opened the door mockingly. "Milady?"

Laughing, I pointed at the door. "Wait outside and don't let anyone come in."

With a little shrug he stepped out.

Ten minutes later, the stranger and I were at the bar counter, downing drinks to the cheers of the loud crowd. The loudness of the music in the background was adding more to the adrenaline.

I turned around briefly. Searching the crowd for my brother, no familiar blot of orange was found.

 _He must have left._

Yeah.

I did, however, catch sight of Barbie and Apparel. Raising my glass towards the two girls grinding against one another.

Oh they were so drunk.

I looked towards the stranger. I had already subconsciously named him Sexy when I pointed at him. "Choose your shot."

I watched as Sexy's lips curled into an evil little grin before he signaled the bartender. "Diamondback."

Cocking my head to the side, I rashly twirled at a strand of hair. Hollering above the frenzy of the crowd, I asked, "Diamondback?"

The insanely sexy Sexy winked. "You'll see."

Shaking my head, I shifted my attention towards the bartender who had busied himself over the counter. Raising my voice slightly, I asked dumbly, "What's in a Diamondback?"

I swear I was getting a tad bit dizzy, but that wasn't stopping me from hearing the light chuckles behind me. Instead of the bartender replying my question, shouts came from all corners of the bar.

"Girl, there's Rye Whiskey!"

"Yeah Rye Whisky and, and that, that Green, Green Chart… uh Green Chartreuse."

 _Drunk bastards._

That thought must have run through my head, unleashed, several times already.

"And three-fourths measure of Apple Brandy," the bartender finished.

I nodded. I'm in for a wild ride tonight.

"Perfect," I said stupidly.

"It's strong," the man behind the counter warned.

I waved him off. And he thought I wasn't aware of that?

Sexy and I received our drinks. It looked… deadly… like a snake. _Holy…_ I should have taken my precautions when I heard the mention of a 'Diamondback.'

Despite the obviousness that the liquor should be downed slowly, it was evident that the people around me were too drunk to care.

Eyeing one another, we had finished our drinks by the end of the eight-second countdown.

I clanked the glass against the counter. "That was disgusting."

Sexy just smirked and ruffled his hair before pointing at me. "Your turn."

"Hm…" I pretended to think about it before nodding. "Last drink."

"Your choice."

I didn't know what was coming over me at that instant, but I ruthlessly decided to end this drinking game on an absurd note. Directing my attention towards the bartender, I announced, "The Aunt Roberta."

The bar, said for the music, became silent.

It felt as if I were underwater as the music suddenly tuned down several notches. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and everything seemed to be dark, and blurred.

"Hey—Gal, you sure—"

"You might not be able to handle –"

"Don't be too rash, Gorgeous. You'll be dead tomorrow morning."

So maybe the bartender looked surprised.

So maybe he tried to coax me to choose something else.

So maybe even Sexy looked at me incredulously, as if to ask what the bloody hell I was doing.

But I held steadfast. Nodding my head, I felt my feet swaying. _Stupid after-effects._ "Bring it on, pretty boy."

Hoo boy, that wasn't meant to come out.

The bartender nodded before unsurely turning around. "Just to make sure, this packs a punch. It's alcoholic beverages through and through."

My eyesight was beginning to blend. It felt as if I was back in the rain all over again.

"It's induced with absinthe, one-and-a-half ounce of vodka, one-fifty rum, brandy, gin, and blackberry liqueur."

"So do you," I tried again, "Do you think I can't take it, huh, huh?"

"Miss, I'm just trying to warn you."

I shook my head stubbornly. Feeling Sexy's gaze pinned on me, I pointed at the bartender. "Get us. Aunt Robertas."

Sighing in defeat, the bartender complied.

The music began to pulse louder. A small voice in the back of my mind asked if this was such a good idea.

 _Just blame it on Reo after this._

That was all the push my mind needed to get through this last drink.

But… Maybe I should have gone for Jello shots.

* * *

 **Chapter 6 Sneak Peek**

"It's a pity that we met at a bar."

 **.**

"How about a good night kiss?"

"Bastard."

 **.**

"Is that an invitation?"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, and my apologies for the long AN at the beginning! (P.S. It'll help so I could just PM you all instead of replying in stories. ;D)**

 **(That was not aimed at you, Croissant; I was too lazy so I just replied here...)**

 **Kindly drop a review? :)**


	5. Reo and Shūichi Sakurano

**Hey guys! I'm back with a new chapter... sorry it took so long. And yes, I did post Chapter 5 before taking it down again.**

 **FrozenCrimsonCroissants:** Yay, you again! Thank you so much for your review! Mikan doesn't exactly have a servant... you'll see in future chapters. :) I hate headaches... whether or not they were caused by alcohol. I'm glad you don't mind replies on the chapter! I'll be doing this from now on.

 **Feu:** Heeey there. Good to see you again! This chapter may be confusing, but that's the fun part! Right?

 **Guest:** Maybe it was Natsume. There were a few distinguishing attributes. :) Did you spot them?

 **StoryWithoutWords:** Hehe, don't worry... I'm not TOO much of a dirty writer! Maybe you'll like this chapter? xD

 **Guest:** Haha, you got it! Ruka not Natsume is her brother! You said Reo. You just might be right.

 **Ayame-hime 11d7:** I'm glad you liked the previous chapter. :) Hopefully, you'll like this too!

 **SupOtherOtakuFans:** My bad. I took the first version of Chapter 5 before reposting it today. Hope you won't hold it against me too much. :)

 **Meekymanga: I MIGHT have made up that coffee beans part... I don't remember where I got chocolate coffee beans - I'm pretty sure I got them SOMEWHERE if not from Starbucks.**

 **Derp1Derp2:** Haha. I'm glad you're starting to find this enjoyable. :)

 **Guest:** Yep, I'm glad you like this!

 **Guest:** 1% of what left? xD

 **Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

 **Warning: This chapter has a lot of odd dialect, so pace yourself while you're reading.**

* * *

"Honestly Mickey, what were you thinking?"

"I a-thinkin' Reo git bummed fer zis."

"I haven't an inkling what you're saying. You're completely hammered, aren't you?"

"Ain't not."

It seems that I was on the floor, sprawled against cold tile. Something was under my head; it was soft, I think, and _bouncy_. It's freaking bouncy; it was a cloud. I concluded that my head was lying on a soft cloud, and I was floating on cold rock.

It seemed legit.

Something bass pulsed in the background. It felt like I was underwater again, and no amount of oxygen was able to make its why into my ears to clarify the sound.

Something shook my shoulder roughly. "Mick. _Mick_."

I shook my head. It was painful.

Bringing my head to a halt, I kept my eyes screwed shut. Holding up my right hand limply, I dribbled; the saliva traced my lower lip before making a sticky beeline for my chin. Moaning, I muttered, "Figh moor mint-uts, Mum…" Clenching my eyes even tighter, I nuzzled deeper into the cloud.

"Lights tern off."

 _Turn the lights off..._

An irritated sigh makes it way to my ear. "Yep, you're completely hammered – the lights are barely even on, Mikan."

"You no like hammering, zen go tatch 'em roofs."

"I'm not a thatcher." I think his voice turned serious. "Mikan, do you even know what time it is?"

Somehow, that ignited fits of giggles from my stomach. Convulsing, I snorted into the little cloud under my head. Pressing two fingers into the dull pain in my skull, I slurred, "It ish Shir'y Te'ple ti'e."

"You're giving me horrible headache, listening to you."

I buried my nose deeper into the cloud.

My dull senses picked up faint fragrances of what seemed pinecone and evergreens. But at the point in time, it hardly seemed _fragrant_.

"And," his voice hardened as he repeated his earlier phrase, "Do you know what time it is?"

I don't know _why_ , but in my assumingly drunken state, all I could hear was a purple dinosaur singing incessantly into my ear.

"For fuck's sake! Mikan, stop dosing off."

"You, did you know you soun' se-x-y 'hen you 'ay _fuck_?"

His voice was incredulous. "I sound sexy when I say fuck?"

I nodded feebly, hugging myself closer.

"I hate breaking it to you, but it's _goddamn three in the morning_. So I suggest you get on off your sorry ass," he whispered furiously as he leaned down to my ear, "get your hair out of your mouth, and drag yourself home."

Home.

That word echoed distantly, bouncing off the walls of my conscience.

"I haven't go' no home."

"Mikan."

I remained silent.

"Mikan," he repeated, acting all high and mighty again.

Irritated, I wiggled my liquid-y legs. "What?" I snap.

"Open your eyes."

"You ain't not makin' meh."

"Mikan."

If voices could kill, I swear that I'd have already been dead… drowning in a large tub of Diamondback shots.

"Fine, _fine_." Somehow, the fog in my mind managed to disperse slowly. Peeling my eyes open painfully, I squinted upwards. A sharp nip tugged at my neck.

The feeling was most unpleasant.

Writhing in discomfort, I gave up and shut my eyes again.

He sighed. "Stay here. I'm getting you a blanket."

 _A blanket?_

"I dun't need a blun-ket."

In a hazy daze, I pushed myself onto my elbows. Everything around me blurred instantly as bout after bout of explosion blinded me senseless. Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be bubbles of light and darkness. It felt as if I was looking about through crossed eyes.

Somewhere nearby, the sound of percussion rattled me to the core. Greatly annoyed, a hand found its way to my forehead.

Eyesight darkening, I squinted, dimly making out the outline of white substance stuck into a wall; several sinks, it seemed, were lined up against another side, large, circus-like mirrors looming above them.

The lower region of my body seemed incapable of functioning above that of the most minimum actions.

What sounded like a door swung open.

I attempted to turn around.

What met me was like a blow to the face. Gasping, my head cracked upwards as I stared at the ceiling, openmouthed. The fireworks shooting up my spine were unbearable. Teeth gritted, I dropped back onto the tiled-floor, falling against my elbows.

 _You must be an ugly sight, Mikan._

Shut up.

Propped up on elbows, I stiffened.

A leather foot stood in line with what I assumed was my stomach. As the figure clad in black leaned down, my eyes dilated as they stared ahead.

 _Pervert alert._

 _Pervert alert._

 _RAPIST alert._

But I remained stiff.

The scent of rain and lemonade engulfed my senses.

Shying away from the steady breathing at my neck, I screwed my eyes shut.

I think I saw stars.

Instead of a rom com-style smooch on the lips, a suave voice floated enticingly into my ears, filtering through my drunken state.

The voice evidently did not belong to my three-o'clock savior.

"It's a pity we met in a bar."

And just like that, images of Lynchburg Lemonade, freshly-remembered Diamondbacks, and rashly-thought-up Aunt Robertas crashed into my existence.

 _And just like that_ , I was sucked back into darkness as I dropped out of this world.

* * *

Somewhere down the stone lane, a girl with flaxen hair stood alone, small bluebells threaded into her two braids. A simple blue dress encircled in minuscule beads adorned her body. In her hand, she clutched a small bouquet of flowers tightly. Thin, pale lips curved into an uptight grimace as she shifted her weight between each sandaled foot.

Standing several feet away, I couldn't help but stare.

Every time I saw this young teenager, she never seemed to age, and she never seemed to smile.

A small jerk tugged at my heart. My purpled hands found its way to my chest as they clasped themselves over one another.

Her thin lips parted, as if to say something.

I leaned forward, not daring to take even one step closer to the girl with flaxen hair. I was afraid… afraid that she would disappear with first contact, afraid that she would leave me, and afraid that she wasn't real. Straining my ears, I shivered, and waited.

Her lips closed. Not a single utterance escaped her pale form.

Yet she was beautiful.

From behind her, a large oak tree swayed, and suddenly, it snapped.

As a strangled cry escaped my throat, the girl, along with the scenery, vanished.

There was an indefinite shriek, and everything turned white.

"Mikan, how did you get home last night?"

That voice.

Hugging myself, I pretend to be deaf. Snippets of flaxen hair and the color red wriggle into my mind.

As something shook my shoulders, it reminded my briefly of my shower incident.

Somehow, I couldn't open my eyes.

 _Stop shaking me…_

"Baby sister?"

 _Don't call me that._

Foggily, I open my eyes.

There is no teenager with flaxen hair; there aren't any bluebells or oak trees… I am nowhere desirable.

Pushing the sheets away from me, I shivered with cold. Groggily, I muttered, "Why don't I have a headache?"

"Nevermind why."

I rubbed my eyes. Licking my dry lips, I turned my head to examine the voice.

"Did you sleep with anyone last night?"

I froze. I bloody froze. "Pardon?" I croaked.

"Did you kiss anyone last night?"

Pulling the blankets back under my chin, I huddled in the mattress. Shooting my brother an odd look, I gawked at him. " _What_?"

I am pretty sure that he just blatantly asked me if I had sex with anyone last night.

"You heard me."

I gazed at his purple eyes.

Shaking my head slowly, I bit my lower lip. "No, why?"

"You were outright drunk."

"It was your fault," I retorted.

"And how was it mine?"

Reo stroked my head as he continued watching me attentively.

"You invited me to the bar."

"Ho-ho. Lil' sis, don't blame your demise on others."

Growing annoyed quickly, I lay back down and burrowed into my pillow.

"What did you do last night?"

Frustrated, I aimed a misplaced kick into the blankets. "I don't know! Why did you ask? I was bloody drunk!"

"You don't remember anything?"

Do I remember anything? Bloody heck, I don't know. Maybe everything was merely a figment of my imagination.

"Well?" my brother continued prompting.

Closing my eyes, I sighed, "I don't know. You tell me."

"Idiot. Get up."

I shook my head and hugged the sheets closer to my body. An oddly-familiar scent of wet rain nipped at my senses.

"Mikan, get up," he repeated.

Heaving a sigh, I asked tiredly, "What time is it?"

"Not sure."

Scowling, I writhed out of bed. Leaning against a wall, I couldn't be bothered to open the shades. I liked the semi-darkness of my room anyway.

Shrugging, I pointed at my brother. "You owe me for waking up."

He straightened. Looking at me straight in the eye, he denied, "No. I do not owe you anything."

With a dismissive wave, I slouched towards my uninviting closet. Glancing down at the sole orange bra I was wearing, I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

Shivering, I pulled a hanger from the dark cavern. "Yes you do."

He walked up behind me. Whispering into my ear, the warm scent of peppermint tickled my nostrils. "You owe me."

Fighting back a retort, I swatted Reo's hands away from sweater in my hand. "Yeah right, big time," I said sourly.

"You do."

Throwing up my hands in exasperation, I groaned, "What is it?"

"Sakurano."

Chewing my lip, a brief flash of blondish-red hair reminded me of Reo's _(and mine, admittedly)_ close friend. "What about him?"

"He's on the couch."

"So what? Maybe he decided to spend the night."

It was then that I realized that it was our childhood friend who had escorted me home from who-knows-what-I-was-doing last night.

 _No one bloody cares anyway._

"He didn't just spend the night, Mikan." Reo's hands were on my waist, his grasp tightening.

Unsure, I pulled away from his grip. Wriggling into my purple sweatshirt, I snapped, "Then what?"

I wasn't sure whether or not Reo knew that it _was_ my green-eyed senior who pulled me dropped me off at my apartment.

His voice lowered by an octave as his hands found its way to my wrists. "He's dead."

* * *

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	6. Accusation

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* * *

I spun around and against all reason, shoved my brother into my half-made bed. "You're lying."

Of course this guy is lying. He had a reputation for messing me; despite being my oh-so-worshipped older brother, from junior through high school, he wasn't crowned Prank King for nothing.

He shook his head, ridding his eyes of his orange bangs. Raking a pale hand through them, he shook his head. Keeping is purple gaze locked on me, he shook his head again. "I am not," he replied simply.

I didn't know what to think.

 _Liar._

Shoving my way towards the door, I thrust it open and found myself tumbling downstairs. Tripping on the last step, I stumbled through the kitchen and into the living room.

With the breath ripped cruelly from my gut, my knees buckled as I saw a thin form, lying rumpled on an ivory couch. His long lashes brushed his cheeks, his lips were slightly apart. To any passerby, he could have been easily passed off as being asleep.

To _me_ , he looked as if he were asleep. And maybe he was.

Stepping forward shakily, I reached towards him. Refusing to accept my brother's echoing voice through my mind, I swallowed thickly. But the lump refused to leave my throat as it lodged itself in place. I no longer cared for the sweater slipping against my bare shoulders.

Gulping, I took another tentative step towards the couch.

Giving up on all restraint, I dashed forward, refusing to believe my brother.

After all, I hadn't seen my blonde friend yet. For all I know, the Reo bastard might even be lying.

Bending over the still figure, I shook his shoulder.

I dimly noticed the white, see-through dress shirt he was wearing; a striped blue tie hung loosely from his neck, encircled limply against shirt collar. A small tear made itself known above his abdomen – pale skin shown through the thin material.

Tugging at the limp man's rolled-up sleeves, I shook him.

Unspeaking, I shook him again, harder.

I silently begged for his green eyes to flutter open as he greeted me with a wolfish grin. _Come on… you're not dead. You're not dead._

For fuck's sake, this might all be a cruel joke he and my brother are pulling!

Giving the blonde in front of me a deft pat against his cheekbone, I waited for any sign of breathing, anything.

Finally swallowing the lump in my throat, I grasped his face in between my hands. Making out the angelic features and pronounced eyebrows, I shook him. "Sakurano," I growled, "This isn't funny. Get up."

Silence.

Letting go of his face, I watched as his head dropped onto the pillow below him with a soft thud.

Brushing the stray strands of flaxen hair from his sleeping face, I flicked his forehead. "This isn't funny," I repeated.

"No one said it was."

I spun around. Shooting to my feet, I stomped forward and jabbed an accusing finger into my brother's chest. Angrily, I said, "What the hell are you two playing at? I get drunk for one evening and come back to some cruel joke?"

I gesture wildly at the silent form behind me. "This isn't funny!" I burst out. "None of this is funny! What are you two trying to do to me?"

Reo remained silent.

Frustrated, I shook his shoulders maddeningly. "So this is a joke? Is there some sort of a magic word that will wake this guy up? Huh? Reo!" With a sickening snarl, I landed a slap on his bewildered face.

"Mikan, stop this. Stop this right now."

"Because you caught me?! You caught me worried for some blonde who happened to be our friend for _fifteen years_? Reo, this is insane!"

"With your yelling, I would be surprised if he hadn't woken up yet, dead or not."

I wheeled around. "You're saying he's dead? I dare you to contradict me. Tell me this idiot here is alive and well. Tell me that this is all a joke."

"Mikan, he's dead."

My chest clawed for breath. "Then how on earth are you so calm?!"

He remained silent.

As my gaze began to blur consistently, I pointed vaguely at the direction Reo was standing in. "Wake him up, you prankster. When I come back down, I, I…" I trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Reo remained unblinking, as he slouched in front of me, fingers hooked in his jean pockets, away from view.

Tearing at my disheveled hair, I groaned. "You know what, do what you want."

And with that, I turned on my heel and rushed upstairs.

Closing the door shakily behind me, I rocked myself in my arms, silently convincing myself that my stuck-up brother was outright lying.

I hadn't, after all, gotten a close look at Sakurano anyway.

* * *

Minutes dragged into an hour. A single hour felt like eternity.

It wasn't until after I had convinced myself that Reo and his friend were playing a cruel joke that I forced myself into the kitchen.

Shy sunlight filtered through the glass windowpanes, reflecting off the dark countertops. My eyes strayed towards the living room – Sakurano was nowhere to be seen.

Inhaling a deep breath of relief, I washed down my worry with another swallow.

One hand on the refrigerator cabinet, I pulled it open slowly as I calmed my palpitating heart.

Peering at the rows of empty clearness, the only things in the fridge was greening cheese and several cracked eggshells. An empty milk carton sat in the back, beside what I assumed was a can of half-year-old Coke.

Someone definitely needed to go shopping.

Pushing the cabinet close with a small sigh, I swept my eyes through the contents of Banquet and Lean Cuisine dinners in the freezer.

 _We're a pathetic lot._

Several boxes of frozen chicken alfredos, beef portobello _(What the heck is that?)_ and cold meatloaf sat untouched in the icy compartment. Cringing at the sight of several empty, lidless tubs of ice cream, it's a wonder that I had managed to survive on such unhealthy healthy food.

Shrugging, I grabbed a frozen box of chicken alfredo, tugged the plastic container out, and shoved the contents into the dirty microwave.

Not bothering to read the instructions, the plastic cover had gone along and heated as well.

As soon as the two minutes were up, the chicken alfredo sat in an unappealing black container as it sat on the countertop.

Shoving the burning, tasteless, and not to mention disgusting, food into my mouth, I soon threw the leftover container into the trashcan.

This is how I spend my mornings.

Glancing at the clock, I realized that it was already mid-afternoon.

Scratch that – this is how I spend my mornings slash sometimes-afternoons.

"Reo," I called to no one in particular, "Did you and Sakurano eat yet?"

A blob of orange hair appeared from a restroom door. An iPhone in one hand, he was drying his damp hair in the other. "No."

"No to you, or no to both of you?"

"Idiot, Sakurano is dead. D-E-A-D."

With a wave of my hand, I stuffed the box that once contained food into the wastebin. Grabbing another frozened meal from the freezer, I said, "Nonsense, you liar."

His voice was hard. "I am not lying. Mikan, we need to talk."

Shoving the "dinner" into the microwave, I waved a silver fork around. "There is nothing to talk about. As soon as you eat, I need to go shopping."

"Shopping for what, drugs? Alcohol?" he sneered.

"I've enough of your garbage attitude, Reo," I snapped. "Stop acting like such a child and man up already."

"You," he emphasized his words with a jab at my spin, " _man_ up, or should I say _woman up_?"

Thrusting the half-heated chicken alfredo into my brother's hands, I stepped away. "Hurry up and eat. If you need to talk," I shrugged warily, "might as well talk with a full stomach."

A curious, albeit small, voice at the back of my head was starting to pester my behavior. Maybe I killed the blonde when I was drunk. No, or maybe he tried to rape me and then I kicked him dead. But he hadn't any scars or wounds! Then maybe I worked my magic on him, causing him to die at the hands of my lady charms.

I was still in a whirlwind of confusion when I felt myself being steered towards the dining table.

Reo dropped himself into a leather seat and roughly gestured for me to imitate him.

Brows furrowed, I did as he told. It seemed to me, that ever since I came to this morning, my brother was acting odder than a monkey not knowing what to do with a green banana.

Stabbing the fork into his untouched alfredo, Reo pointed at me. "You. Talk. Now."

Confused, I gaped at him. "There's nothing to talk about. You're speaking another language."

"Don't play dumb with me," he snarled. "I gave you two _hours_ to think through what you had done. In those two hours, tell me, Mikan," he said venomously, "did you come up with a nice fat lie?"

"Lie for _what_? I didn't do anything!"

Reo twisted his fork gruesomely at the stomach. "Puh-lease. Little sister, I know you." Lowering his voice, he continued, "You've been a master liar since childhood. You are able to lie _straight through your teeth_ to get Mother to believe you. Don't tell me you don't know anything. Don't."

Already boiling with anger, I breathed heavily through my nostrils. "I swear to the Lord, Reo. I haven't a single idea at what you're getting at."

"Sakurano's death," he spat. "You were involved, weren't you? You just used _Lord_. You must be breaking down."

 _What the hell?_

The hell?

Curling my hands into white balls, I seethed, "You have no right, _no right_ to accuse me of being involved with anything. Fuck, I don't even know if you're playing at some sick joke!"

Reo pushed back from the table. Thrusting the fork to the ground, he pointed at me threateningly. "You promised that you would never lie to me."

Clear substance was threatening to pool out of my eyelids. "I swear, I didn't do anything. I don't believe for a single second that Sakurano is dead!"

"Oh really?"

I rubbed my eyes furiously. Holding my ground, I glared up at the treacherous purple eyes pinned against me. "I swear."

"You're not one to swear, _or_ bring some Lord up, Mikan. You're guilty, aren't you?" he had snaked his way towards me, hissing softly, poisonously against my ear. "Just admit it, and we will all be fine. Admit it, and wake up, little sister."

I pushed against the broad chest. "Prove it. Prove that _I'm_ the one who murdered Sakurano."

"Ah so now you want proof? Simple. Here's a phone," In a flash, he had produced my Galaxy cellphone from his pant pocket. The screen was scraped, and the upper right corner was dented. "Maybe this is yours?"

I watched, horrified. As my knees buckled, I began shaking. _No… No… I didn't do anything!_

"Not so defiant now, are we, little sister? While you were up in your room, plotting, faking remorse, I phoned up the police station. Paramedics fetched Sakurano's body – of course he was no longer in our little world, even when I had found him." Reo ran a finger up and down my cheek, sending involuntary shivers down my spine.

"And you assume that I'm involved in this garbage?"

"Ah, naturally. You know what else I found, besides your little phone?"

I clenched my teeth together, dreading his response.

"Your hair. Long strands of beautiful brown hair, woven around his fingers. Does that not sound like you? Oh, and what's more? The _blanket_ , he had a blanket with him, Mikan. Do you know what that contained," Reo blew into my ears, "Brunette hair."

I had stopped listening to his hypnotic voice ages ago. In a fit of rage, I shoved my brother up against the wall. Wincing at the impact his weight had on my shoulder, I neared my face dangerously close to his. "Listen up, Reo. I am only saying this one more time, so listen carefully. _I. Did. Not. Murder. Sakurano._ Do you understand?"

"I've got proof already. Shield yourself from the truth all you like, but it is already evident you killed my best friend."

" _Your_ best friend?" I choked. Scoffing, I released my already-weak grip against this _monster's_ collar and turned away.

"Is realization finally dawning you, little sister? Is it?"

Growling, I reeled around. "I did not kill him; can't you get that through your thick head already?"

"You know that we will go to court for this. No, _you will_ ," he corrected himself. "This is considered as a _homicide_ , Mikan. _Someone is dead._ "

Piling my hair into a topknot at the top of my head, I walked away. Giving up, I shook my head.

Halfway up the cold stairs, I turned around. Pointing at my brother, "You know what? Fuck this. If you don't trust me, someone as close to you as your little sister, there is no use hanging around you any longer. I am not your rag doll; I am not someone you blame when times get rough. But most of all? You and I, we can't lean against each other any longer, doesn't that seem right to you? Forget this. I'm going to England."

My brother watched me through slanted slits.

"I need a break. And you know what? Maybe this is all one big, cruel joke that you find pleasurable."

* * *

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	7. Georgia Summers and Bill Gates

**Hey guys.**

 **Kipla:** About that, I felt too lazy to reveal everything at once. You'll see as everything slowly unfolds!

 **TheCertainSomeone:** I would like to say a very big 'Thank you' to you. Reading your reviews were much fun and very insightful. Thank you, once again, for your comments.

 **MeepsterWalking:** Interesting username you've got there! Thank you for your reviews. Well, Mikan here talks about a religion a lot because... again, it will be revealed slowly! I've already dropped a few hints that'll click later on.

 **God'sHenchwoman:** Heh... sorry for offending you. This does, however, play an important role in my story. I'll tone it down, but I can't promise that I'll eliminate it completely, alright? :)

 **Guest:** Hmm... MAYBE Mikan takes drugs... maybe she IS a murderer! For Natsume... Just hold tight!

 **Derp1Derp2:** Haha, thanks for the review. Natsume'll appear soon enough. Patience is a virtue, my friend. (I lack it too... don't you fret!) ;)

 **NeverFallingDown:** Thank you, thank you. As for the girl with flaxen hair, you shall soon see!

 **Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

One week passed. It has been exactly one week and since the autopsy; it had been one week since I have been lugged into countless arguments with _anyone_ , and it has been one week since I have kept to myself even more so.

Over the course of seven days, New York had begun experiencing light dustings of snow. A towering evergreen was being erected in Times Square, Christmas carols mixed with Classical masterpieces spilled forth from coffee shops, bookstores, cafés, and just about anywhere imaginable besides perhaps prisons. Children danced to and fro, twirling in the soft, snow globe-like scenery of the Park. Lights of every kind warmly sparkled on rooftops and against windows.

I watched with a pang as the children frolicking without a worry, and I briefly wished for my childhood. I missed the endless times Mum would separate my brother and my fights; I missed Mother's warm lap as she tended to the fire under our chimney, with chopsticks loaded with warm, fluffy marshmallows, beside one another. That woman never allowed outdoor objects indoors – "pet" frogs and toads stayed in plastic boxes on the doorstep (They were lucky enough to either die from asphyxiation or escape before winter rolled around), glossy bird feathers remained strictly in the garage, and interesting leaves were snuck sneakily into the house.

But I don't live with my mother anymore.

 _I didn't know that, Sherlock. I thought Reo was a woman and that he gave birth to you._

Reo.

The name brought a hard, gritty feel into my stomach. Unsettled, that afternoon's liquid-y clam chowder threatened to come back up.

No longer comforted by the soft snow or the happy children, I shoved my clammy fingers into my jacket pockets and dragged myself away from the park.

"Are you Mikan Yukihira?"

I didn't even bother to turn around. As light footsteps followed me for several seconds, I hunched my shoulders and sped my pace. "Sorry kid. The name's Georgia Summers."

I swear, if the snow was not threatening to freeze me in half, the name would have seemed funny.

"What a warm name dropped carelessly onto a mean woman," came the reply.

 _Well, fuck that._

Somewhat surprised with the response, I stopped walking. Pulling my hood over my head, I turned around. The boy was short and round, his brown hair squashed by what I assumed was a hat knitted by his grandmother. His soft brown eyes were framed behind large wire-rimmed glasses and a sloppy lightning-shaped scar was drawn onto his forehead with a red sharpie.

He looked at me shyly as several snowflakes landed on his lashes. "Georgia Summers is still a beautiful name."

I shrugged a laugh in response, unaccustomed to the boy's sudden appearance. "Thanks, kid?"

 _Don't ask._

As he continued watching me, he tugged at his colorful, lumpy beanie and blinked up at me.

He was a rather interesting kid.

Pointing at his forehead with a freezing finger, I said, "You like Harry Potter?"

He nodded vigorously and beamed up at me toothily, his front teeth were half-grown. "I want to grow up and be famous like Daniel Radcliffe, and be the richest man alive!"

 _What ambition._ I cleared my throat. Finding nothing better to do, I dropped onto one knee and met eye to eye with the little boy. "Yeah?"

He nodded again. "Yeah! I'll put even Bill Gates to shame!"

 _You do that. You do that._

Unmindful of the thickening snow, I chuckled, albeit oddly. "If that's the case, kid, then you'll have to work hard. You know Babe Ruth?"

He gawked at me, rubbing his flushed cheeks. "You don't look like someone who's into baseball," he mumbled with a little frown.

"I've got a brother who killed himself over the pithy sport. Kiddo," now I was referring to myself, "don't go around judging something by its cover."

"I thought you were mean!" he pouted.

"I am. If you want to kick Bill Gate's butt, big guy, don't forget that dreams don't work until you do. It's hard to beat a person who never gives up."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled into his jacket.

Straightening, I tipped my head towards the dark sky and shivered. "Where's your mom?"

"Oh you know," he shuffled, "Somewhere."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Somewhere?"

 _Sketchy._

"Yeah, somewhere," he echoed.

By now, the romping children in the Park had disappeared. Their footprints were being erased from existence by the white flurries of originality swirling from the skies.

"She hasn't forgotten you, has she?" I joked halfheartedly, desperately attempting to wipe the frown off his face.

 _Lame. Fail. That's stupid, Mikan._

He waved his hand in an adult-like manner. "Imma big boy, I can take care of myself!"

Shrugging, I patted his head. "Take care, alright?"

"You too, Miss Summers!"

 _That name honestly doesn't sound half bad._

I walked away, a small grin on my face. Undoubtedly, I had learned something new today.

* * *

"I'm taking you home. Where do you live?"

It had been several minutes since I left the little boy behind. Ducking under the shelter of an evergreen tree, I watched as he stood under a streetlamp in the park, alone.

It didn't seem right. It just didn't.

He pushed himself to the ground, hugging his body for warmth as his shoulders shook silently. I could only assume that he was crying. He had removed the lumpy beanie from his head and he held it in his hands for warmth. The brown locks of hair quickly dampened as the snow soon created a transparent shoji screen around him.

"Where do you live?" I repeated.

The boy's whole demeanor had changed. "I don't tell strangers where I live," he snapped.

It was the truth to say that I was taken aback. Spending several moments to gather my thoughts, I watched him with a frown. "It's getting late; your parents will be worried."

"I already _told_ you, my mom is coming to get me."

"It's been five minutes already."

He shoved his stiff, damp beanie back onto his head. I winced as he looked at me defiantly, despite the evident purpling of his lips and the slight shivers vibrating off his being. "Well she's busy alright? Why'd you care so much anything?"

His clear articulation and sure grammar struck awe in my shivering self. That's right. _Why do I care?_

I didn't know what to say. I didn't expect a mere six-or-seven year-old to ask me why the hell I was sticking my nose into his business. I didn't expect to witness a boy standing outside in the evening, in the snow, alone. Heck, I don't even know if I was even doing the right thing. Like he said, I was a stranger… asking for his address.

If it weren't for the large age gap between the two of us, I'd be definitely labeled as a hooker. If I'm lucky, maybe a slug. After all, I _am_ dirty – just don't mess 'dirty' up with 'sleeping around.'

"Well?"

I looked down. Kneeling on the ground half-covered by snow, the little boy's eyes were watering and stray snowflakes melted on his cheeks.

I wanted to tell him to repeat himself. I wanted to tell him that I didn't hear him the first time around. I wanted to ask him to repeat himself.

But he took my answer as an insult.

With eyes bleary with tears, he rubbed his snowy sleeve forcefully across his eyes, picked himself up from the snow on the ground, turned around, and ran away.

He ran away from me.

Perplexed.

That's what I felt – perplexed.

The little beanie had disappeared completely from view and I was once again alone, standing stupidly in the snow, one hand picking at the wet droplets on my nose.

I never got his name.

* * *

Taking the long route home, I ducked into the elevator. Shaking out of my coat, I didn't know what to do.

It had become routine to slip silently into our apartment without either sibling coming across one another. I stayed out of Reo's way, and he stayed out of mine.

After his unfathomable accusation, I had steered clear of the orange blonde. If he had no intention of apologizing or believing me, I had no intention of speaking to him.

Pushing into familiar surroundings, I instantly made a quick getaway to my room. Hanging the wet coat on an unoccupied hook, I kicked off my boots and shut the door.

Surveying my surroundings, a heap of discarded clothes sat atop my bed – they were arranged in such a way that screamed "What the hell are you doing there, get your arse over here and clean us up!" Wooden and plastic hangers alike were strewn all over the floor; a few were snapped in two. Colorful undergarments littered the foot of the bed and sat uncaringly on the dark windowsill.

My favorite pillows were torn to shreds.

Glancing at the door behind me, I scowled at the small black cat. He continued blinking up at me innocently as he washed his paws slowly. _I didn't do anything_ , he seemed to say.

With a huff, I mumble, "If you didn't do it, then who did?"

All Blackie did was purr before curling himself into a furry ball.

 _Reo._

I stormed out of my room and burst through my brother's door.

He was sitting on his own bed with a pen in one hand and a can of orange soda in another. Scribbling simultaneously on several notebooks, his sheets were littered with snack crumbs and print-out images.

Face resembling that of a spooked horse, he looked up at me in surprise. Straightening his hunched back, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Seething, I pointed at him. "What do you want with me?"

Startled, he repeated, "What do I want with you?"

Hands balled into fists with frustration, I stalked up to him. Grabbing a fistful of the images on his bed, I tore them to pieces before raining them on top of him. "You heard me. _What do you want from me_?"

Narrowing his eyes, he glared at me. "You owe me." Downing a large gulp from his soda can, he said tiredly, "What is this about?"

Irritated, I growled, "Everything!"

"Is this about Sakurano again?"

 _Yes this is._

 _NO IT ISN'T!_

I coughed. "Screw you. Who gave you permission to trash my room?"

"I don't need permission."

 _Deep breathes._

 _In. Out. In. Out._

 _Deep breathes._

"I'm done with you. See you in a month."

"I saved your ass, idiot. I would stay there if I were you."

 _Newsflash: You're not me,_ buddy _._

Something was up with this guy.

And it seemed that not even Bill Gates could put him to shame.

* * *

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	8. Under Revision

I am back from an unannounced hiatus.

Currently under revision. Please check back soon!


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